


held by the moon, just like this

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Series: card fills [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Dark, Gore, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: It's nearly winter now, but Sehun's apartment complex smells like Jongdae's memories of summer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for my gore square on gen bingo.  
> dark mood + spoops. I meant to post this for halloween but couldn't get online on the day :{ usual softs to resume soon. if this needs any additional tags please do let me know☆
> 
> I listened to this a lot while working on this -  
> [Held by the moon, just like this It would be fine if it all disappeared](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBdtUewmDr0)

Jongdae swipes his phone open while he waits for the elevator, tapping through to Sehun's contact and then swiping, swiping, frowning. He can never find the character sticker he wants first try on here, though he doesn't get a lot of practice. Sehun is the sole reason he has kakaotalk; he's the only person Jongdae knows that uses it. He's the only person under 25 that Jongdae even really does know on any personal level.

The elevator doors open. Jongdae presses for Sehun's floor and locks his phone. Since Sehun graduated two months ago they've barely seen anything of each other, and Jongdae's felt awful about it. He was far more of a friend than a mentor to Sehun, and he hadn't just been caught up in the moment when he promised that the end of Sehun's education didn't mean the end of their friendship.

Sehun's been busy -- of course, a recent graduate looking for work -- every time Jongdae's called, and Jongdae's had his boring grown up things to do and sent replies hours, even days late. He worked off campus today and passed Sehun's stop on the line home, and at the last moment jumped out of his seat and onto the platform. Why go home and catch up on late replies when he could just visit? Sure, with his older friends spontaneous plans are a mythical concept, but that's how he's ended up waiting on drinks with Junmyeon an entire 8 months after the idea was first discussed.

Jongdae closes the catch on his phone case and slips it back into his bag. He thought it'd be fun to string Sehun along about a surprise, but he's not one for texting while he walks, and now he's already all the way here it'd be far too short-lived. He'd rather see Sehun crumple into laughter when he opens the door instead.

Jongdae's shoes don't make a sound on the thick, dirty hallway carpeting. He's wearing knit and his bag is the worn old leather satchel Sehun always teased him about. Sehun's going to laugh so hard, and affection and anticipation burn and twist in Jongdae's gut with every door he passes. Knowing Sehun he'll probably be cosy and settled in for the night already. Maybe Jongdae could stay over.

Yeah. Jongdae could stay. He can treat Sehun to a cafe breakfast in the morning. They can walk each other to the station. Sehun always hugs so awkwardly in public, and then Jongdae can press in under his chin and laugh at him, too.

If there's cctv in this hallway watching Jongdae stride along it'll have caught the exact moment his smile flattens.

There's light leaking out around Sehun's doorway. Vivi must have needed taking out. Jongdae's told Sehun a hundred times about not leaving his door on the latch, even if he does consider all of his neighbours friendly. Someone could just walk in. Jongdae doesn't think that someone should be himself. And hmm, now he's stuck. It'd scare Sehun to death if he got back to find someone already in here.

Sighing, Jongdae retrieves his phone. A short-lived surprise it'll have to be.

[Hi. I came to visit but you must be out with Vivi. Come back soon!]

Miraculously Jongdae finds the sticker he wants in one swipe, so he tacks that on after hitting send. And now to wait. He leans a shoulder against the wall, digging the toe of his shoe into the carpet. Foiled on his first attempt at spontaneity in years, typical. It's been a fun detour, though. It's nice to have some excitement back in his belly after a week of teaching a class that didn't share his enthusiasm for the material.

It's nearly winter now, but Sehun's apartment complex smells like Jongdae's memories of summer.

Behind the crack in the doorway comes two chimes, cut over by a startled bark. Jongdae nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound and does drop the case for his phone, though thankfully not the phone itself. What's Sehun doing leaving the door open with Vivi inside? Jongdae's fingers brush the carpet as he retrieves the leather case. If Sehun's passed out drunk and potentially put Vivi in harms way-- that wouldn't be like Sehun at all. Sehun wouldn't do this if everything was fine. Jongdae thumbs the catch on his phonecase for a moment and feels every muscle in how hard it suddenly is to swallow.

Jongdae wonders if he should dial for the police and have his phone ready in his hand, his thumb hovering over the call button. Vivi yips and whines. Jongdae tucks his phone back into his satchel and knocks once on the door before pushing it open.

The room is messy, but not beyond how Sehun probably keeps the place when his parents or Jongdae aren't constantly in and out and he doesn't need a study space. The window is slìghtly open, but it's not like anyone would be trying to break in through a window on the twenty second floor. "Sehunnie?" Jongdae steps further in. They used to organise his work sheets on the floor here, with the coffee table against the wall to make space for the two of them on their knees.

"Vivi," Jongdae calls when he catches sight of him, crouching and patting his knees. "Vivi. Vivi, good boy. Come here."

Vivi keeps whining. He's never been the most attentive dog, usually too busy relaxing or licking something far more interesting than a human. He's not a very active dog, really, unless necessary. It's not like him to scamper around in circles. "Where's Sehunnie gotten to, boy? He's not home, is he?" It's not like Sehun to leave without him. Or without his phone.

Phone. Jongdae knows the passcode. Is it getting ahead of himself to go snooping for clues? Sehun could walk in any moment and throw his bag of 7-11 snacks at Jongdae for scaring him, and breaking in, and going through his things (and never replying to his texts on time, and being too busy for noraebang every time Sehun's offered). He could have run out to meet someone, like if Jongdae had called from outside the building and Sehun hadn't wanted him to come up and see the mess. He could have gone to the row of vending machines at the side of the building and they just missed each other. There's so many explanations. There's a bright pink post-it stuck to the coffee table beside his phone.

_please look after my dog_

There's another ( _laptop password_ :), and another ( _please contact_ :). Jongdae looks up at Vivi and back down at the yellow note still attached to the pad. _next of kin_ :

Jongdae's eyes roll over the contact details for Sehun's mother like they're falling out of their sockets.

There's only two ways in and out of here. Jongdae doesn't remember dropping his bag, but he must have at some point because his foot tangles in the strap.

In the daytime the view out of the window here is plain but pleasant. Sehun's apartment is shaded by the building opposite, but he faces the small garden area rather than the street. It's communal down there; Sehun planted sunflowers the year before last, pressed his face to the window every morning to see them smiling up at him. The curtains have been sucked out into the night air. There's a scrape in the wallpaper below the window ledge.

Jongdae can't feel a single bone in his body as he pushes the window wide. Newer apartments have regulations now, and the windows only open so far. Sehun moved into this old place because it was cheaper, and he's kind of sentimental about old things. Like Jongdae.

It felt like a pleasant night walking over here, on the ground and not twenty two floors up. The gust of wind that hits Jongdae as he leans out almost knocks him straight back in. Vivi's whining again, and as Jongdae fights the curtains aside he knows without thinking who on the list of contacts Sehun would want him to go to. All those lists. Maybe all that time spent with someone like Jongdae rubbed off on Sehun a little.

Jongdae's a practical person. That's why he knew to look out the window. That's why after he's looked down to the garden he just turns and runs.

 

Jongdae's knees are wet. Sehun-- a considerate boy, always so good-- he landed on the path, between the beds. It's Jongdae that's crushing the flowers, on his knees in the damp soil. "I left my phone upstairs," he chokes, "Because I-- because you always said to just keep it in my pocket, but I like the case and the case doesn't fit, it's upstairs--" Jongdae doesn't know who he should call first, anyway. An ambulance? The police?

No, not the police. They'd take Sehun away and get him in trouble, and Sehun's done nothing wrong.

Jongdae's always know there was something special about Sehun. A wonderful, special boy, whether he'd believe it or not. Jongdae should have told him more often, probably, knowing no one else was going to. It wasn't just empty words of encouragement, and it wasn't just about Sehun's work. It was so true that Sehun is above and beyond. He's such a special boy. No other could have still been moving when Jongdae got down here.

Jongdae's not much into biology or science, he's not sure if it's likely Sehun is still salvageable. His fingers twitched when Jongdae crashed down beside him, and a burbling sound came out of the mash of blood and concrete when Jongdae said his name. That's enough.

You're not supposed to move someone if you suspect a broken neck. Jongdae did first aid, he's not an idiot. It's probably exceptional circumstances if you're not sure how attached to the spine the head still is, though. "Sehun, can you still hear me? I think--" Jongdae drops down even closer to the ground, tilting his head as he studies in more detail where hair and blood and features start and end. He can make out the right side of his face. Ok. Good. "I can see you. Can you see me?"

Each sound is a bubble of blood from Sehun's mouth. They're shaped a little like words. Jongdae hopes that means he's coming round.

Sehun is blonde again. He was blonde over summer, reluctantly brunette for his exams. It's been so long since he sent a selfie that Jongdae didn't even know he'd changed it back. He's only really noticing it now because of how the clots of blood and bone stand out against it. There must be a lot about Sehun that Jongdae didn't know.

"I'm going to turn you," Jongdae decides. Might puke, too, but that's irrelevant; they're outdoors. "Ok? And then-- then we're going to sit you up." And if Sehun's still in one piece after that-- Jongdae can figure that out when it happens. Even if Sehun sits up his legs aren't at an angle that he could walk on them. Even if Sehun could stand his ribs have probably pierced his lungs, maybe his heart. "Sehun, I know how brave you are. We're gonna--" His hand glides through the sticky slick at the nape of Sehun's neck. Needs supporting, in case he disintegrates as Jongdae moves him. "Gonna turn you onto your back, get the pressure off."

Sehun doesn't want to be turned. His teeth scrape the path. More blood pours out rather than sound, diluted with thick, bubbling saliva now. He's dead, he's dead, he's dead. He's turned, face peeling from the concrete like gum coming away on a shoe.

There's an acid burn in Jongdae's throat and nose as Sehun crumples across his lap. But he's Sehun's hyung, he can't let him down right now. This isn't about Jongdae. Lit only by the one floodlight over the path and the glow from the windows up above them it's hard to tell exactly how badly broken Sehun is from the fall. One side of his face would be identifiable to his parents. Jongdae's arm is so, so gentle around him; under Sehun's sweater feels like a bundle of twigs, all loose and shaken up.

How had Jongdae not noticed? It's a little bit about him. It's about everyone Sehun wrote on that list of contacts, and the ones he didn't think important enough to mention. And Vivi, and if it hadn't been Jongdae who had found the scene when he did-- He's not going to snap at Sehun for it now. If Sehun were stone cold dead Jongdae would pity himself for never getting to ask why, but that's not what he needs to ask right now.

"Can you hear me?" There's only blood coming from one ear. One eye is still clearly intact, but eyes are complicated things behind the sockets. "Can you see anything?"

"Dark." Sehun's voice thickens and he rattles as he coughs in long, hard hacks. Jongdae doesn't dare hold him tighter. Two teeth drop out in the next stringy spit of blood. Better out than in, when they're swimming around in the back of your throat.

Jongdae swallows hard. "That's right, Hunnie. It's night time, it's dark." Sehun's brain and mouth are still working, that's something. Ambulance, when Jongdae gets his phone. "Do you know who I am?"

"Jongdae," Sehun wheezes, straining to push the sound out.

Hope swells in Jongdae's chest. "That's right. Hyung came to see you." Too late. Hyung came to see Sehun after it mattered. "What are you doing down here, Sehun? I came over to stay the night. I-- I was coming home from a boring work thing and jumped off the train just before the doors closed. I came over without plans. I thought it'd make you laugh.

I don't know what to do," Jongdae admits when Sehun doesn't respond. He shouldn't want Sehun to tell him that's ok. If he'd come down here and Sehun had been cracked open like an egg it would have been Jongdae's fault for not arriving five minutes earlier -- for every time he read a text and fastened the catch on the leather case and slipped his phone away for later. It's more like Sehun's just damaged his shell, and Jongdae thought of him, cared for him, showed up for him but can't stop the inevitable ooze.

Air whistles through Sehun's crooked nose with the exertion of tilting his head. "Nothing, hyung," If he was breathing Jongdae would have heard that before now, "I can't think." He's such a handsome boy, even with his skull shattered under the skin. "It doesn't hurt." The burn in Jongdae's nose stings.

"That's good," Jongdae says, touching a hand to Sehun's hair so lightly. "Wouldn't want you in pain."

"Doesn't hurt." Sehun's lips move, pulling wide. A thick clot of blood slops down from his jaw. "I can't think."

Jongdae's fingers stroke through matted hair and settle in mush. Even Sehun's insides are starting to lose their warmth now. "Don't try to. You don't need to right now. You know how smart I am-- I'll think enough for us both." There's a lot of areas Jongdae wishes he were smart in right now. He knows how to interpret poetry and long, pointless lists of dates and names. He knows basic first aid. He doesn't know how long they have until Sehun starts to stiffen. He doesn't know if Sehun's relatives could make it here before the first stages of decomposition set in. More pressing, what he doesn't know is if Sehun would want to say a longer goodbye than what fitted on a post-it.

"I think--" There's no pulse to count. Sehun's moving without needing air breathed back into him. "I don't think we need an ambulance, do we? We're ok here together." Sehun's mouth twitches in a smile. Jongdae wonders how long Sehun knew he was down here alone.

Jongdae massages Sehun's cold fingers. He's read that suicide traps the soul, and maybe this is that -- less poetic; feeling Sehun's fingers curling around his while everything inside Sehun's clever little head is leaking out. He knows things he doesn't want to and is missing all the things he should. "I found your notes, Sehunnie. You were-- hyung found them. Were there more? I found four. Do you remember? One each colour on the block-- a pink one, a green one--" Acid suddenly fills Jongdae's throat again and he has to spit this time, bunching his body in tight to try and keep Sehun steady as he turns his head to the flowerbed.

With every tiny movement Sehun makes strange sounds, but Jongdae's not sure any of them mean there's anything left to save. There's a lot inside of him that must be moving around, all shaken out of place, straining to hold itself in ways it wasn't made for. Now he's sat Sehun up like this, Jongdae's trying not to wonder if his head would stay seated on his shoulders if he wasn't being held in place.

"Did you leave anything in your laptop?" Jongdae presses. "I just-- I want to make sure I do everything right, Hunnie." There has to be a note. There has to. Something on Sehun's phone, or an email draft, or-- he wouldn't just leave without telling anyone why. "I'm sorry, I know it's not easy to talk right now. I just really.."

"I can't think," Sehun says again. Of course. Jongdae should know better. Jongdae wonders if he gathered all of Sehun that's spilled out and stuffed it back in, even gritty and cold, if it'd help, but Sehun can't think. Sehun wouldn't know, Jongdae doesn't know. Doesn't know if there's an explanation, doesn't know how many times Sehun's looked at that window and thought about the distance down to where his sunflowers used to be.

Jongdae's read that if you really need help you should call that there's fire -- people _care_ if they think there's a fire. But do they need help, really? Jongdae will later, to make things easier for Sehun's parents to sort through, and to make sure he doesn't forget anything when he gives Vivi's belongings to Jongin-- it must be Jongin. Jongdae's only met him once, when he came stumbling into Sehun's apartment with study snacks not expecting someone else to be there. He didn't stay long; Jongdae made him shy, and Sehun said not to mind, he's better with dogs than people anyway.

"I'm sorry for asking so many questions." Jongdae pets softly at Sehun's wet mat of hair. "You don't need to worry about anything. Look-- look at this, Hunnie, the mess on hyung's sweater.. knit sweater. It's that one you said makes me look twice as old." Sehun burbles. Jongdae laughs, and the bubbling from Sehun's mouth raises in pitch. Jongdae adores this boy; forcing answers out of him isn't what he should be doing right now. "You did so much, Hunnie. You don't need to worry, you-- so good, made it easy for us."

"Prec," Sehun says with a splutter. "Preco-- precaut.." His lips don't want to curve quite the right way for that.

Jongdae gulps hard. "Precaution." It's just emotion stuck in his throat now. He doesn't want Sehun to hear him cry.

Something just below the support of Jongdae's hand goes with a fragile snap and then a hollow crack as Sehun tilts his head. The side of his face that's more slush than skin presses in at Jongdae's chest. It's soft and cold. Jongdae feels it soak through to his skin and almost laughs again, just because Sehun's finally gotten his own way. Jongdae for sure won't be wearing his ageing knit sweater anymore.

"For," Sehun's jaw scrapes on Jongdae's chest, "If.. Hyung, help me?"

"You don't have to talk," Jongdae shushes. With Sehun curled in closer he wants to press kisses to him, because he never would have when they knelt together in Sehun's essays, or when Sehun hooks him in his sweet, giggly goodbye hugs. Sehun probably didn't get little affections from anyone else, but Jongdae didn't ever feel like he should have been the one to offer it. Now is the time, but Sehun might crumple wherever he touches him. "Of course. Of course, of course. Anything, tell hyung." Jongdae squeezes Sehun's hand tight.

"For if it actually worked this time." Sehun squeezes back. It's a firm grip, exertion making his scrambled insides groan and seep. "I can't think, hyung. Can you help me get back inside?"


End file.
